Shake the Earth
by sametheeagle95
Summary: The collapse of Cybertron was a slow one, but when it came, it came quickly. As Elita and Chromia begin to watch their lives spiral out of control, love finds a way through the lies and thirst for power. A prelude before the Great War...
1. By Reminiscing

Shake the Earth

Disclaimer: I don't own the Transformers but I do own my OC's. Please enjoy.

_When the power of love overcomes the love of power then the world will know peace._

_-Jimi Hendrix_

_**By Reminiscing** _

It had been four million human years since she had seen him and far too many in Cybertronian vorns. War and pride had separated them but perseverance and hope had brought them back together. In those first moments when he held her in his arms and their sparks cried out in joy to see each other again, all of those vorns seemed to fade away in her processor, becoming as insubstantial and harmless as the shadows.

But she knew it could never last. She couldn't stay with him on their new home, Earth. She needed to go back to Cybertron. She needed to go back and secure the Well of Allsparks from Shockwave so that when Optimus and his Autobots finally secured the Allspark they would be ready for him.

These thoughts had plagued her every night, making recharge a luxury that seemed to slip just outside of her grip. Being her sparkmate and other half, Optimus knew that something was weighing down on Elita's spark but he respected her space and let her be, like right now. She was in the middle of finishing a double shift in the graveyard orns of the night, helping Jazz go through reports from all Autobot sectors on Earth, Cybertron and Ultra Magnus' refugee ship.

"Still can't recharge?" Teletraan-1, the A.I. for the _Ark_ asked as she flickered to life near Elita's work station. Her holoform was the same as it was when she first met her; an extremely slender and streamlined femme frame that was completely covered in chrome plating so she appeared to be like a star under the right lighting. She was still having a hard time wrapping her processor around the fact that Teletraan was based off of her cerebrocircuitry patterns, making her essentially a copy of Elita.

"Unfortunately yes," Elita admitted, smiling wearily at Teletraan as she finished a report. It didn't help either that after so long having to be on her guard Elita was finding it incredibly difficult to relax. She wasn't the only one; all of the Survivors of Cybertron, those who were left behind when the _Ark_ launched, were having a hard time as well. Ratchet, First Aid and one of the native organic medics diagnosed them with something the organic humans called "post traumatic distress order". "Figured if I can't recharge, I might as well do something productive."

"Anything I can help with?" Teletraan asked. Elita shook her head tiredly.

"I'm alright here but thank you for the offer." Rubbing her optic ridge, a red warning sign flashed on the screen that was Elita's optics; it was reminding her that she was drawing off of reserve power packs and she needed some more energon. She and several of the Autobot commanders, including her best friend Chromia, had gotten powerful new forms thanks to the energized energon Shockwave had dropped them in on Cybertron but her new form was still susceptible to recharge and energon deficiency.

The warning didn't miss Teletraan' s keen sensors. "At least let me get you some energon." Without waiting for Elita to respond, Teletraan's form flickered out of sight as she traveled the length of the ship to the energon stores. She would be back momentarily. Allowing herself a brief moment of respite, Elita leaned back and shuttered her optics for just a moment. The hum of energy going through the ship was comforting and constant, almost putting her in recharge right there on the bridge.

"You too huh?" A deep and melodic femme voice pulled her out of recharge. Taking a little longer than she normally did to respond, Elita blinked wearily at the blue femme standing in the doorway of the bridge. The femme gave her a similarly weary smile as she walked over to Elita, blue optics just as heavy as Elita's felt.

"What's keeping you up?" Elita asked her oldest and dearest friend as Chromia took a seat next to Elita's station.

"Old habits." Chromia admitted, unconsciously fingering one of her beloved guns in her hands. The old metal shone from vorns of being polished and having seen battle and fixed up to see another orn. "Thinking about Cybertron, about here, about the Allspark. Probably the same stuff that's keeping you up."

"I thought I was the one who worried needlessly." Elita teased, making Chromia smile at her. "But yes, I am thinking about the same things as you are. They have not gone away since we arrived here on Earth."

"The sacred organic mud ball." Chromia said, repeating one of Sunstreaker's famous phrases about the nature of their second home. At the thought of Sunstreaker, both femmes glanced at each other. "You know Lancer's not coming back with us." Chromia told her, voicing the truth that they had known the second they watched Sunstreaker race for Lancer's failing form when they emerged through the space bridge.

"I figured as much; she and Sunstreaker aren't about to leave each other but Ratchet needs to keep her and Stopsign here to make sure they're okay." Elita sighed deeply through her vents, blowing cool air out into the bridge. Chromia chuckled tiredly.

"Sides, Firestar and I have a bet going on when they'll finally sparkbond." She said. "I'm honestly surprised they didn't do the deed when we first got here."

"Lancer wasn't exactly in a position to sparkbond with mutate venom running through her." Elita reminded her, recalling the final days of their exile on Cybertron when Stopsign and Lancer hung onto life after having been ambushed by mutates in the Sea of Rust. "They'll have to wait for Ratchet's medical okay before they do anything of that sort."

"Since when has that stopped a young and wildly in-love couple?" Chromia asked incredulously. "Certainly didn't stop me and Ironhide when all of society was crumbling around our audio receptors or you and Optimus."

"I seem to recall that Optimus and I took a little more coercing than you and Ironhide did." Elita reminded her, smiling despite herself as she thought of the days so long ago when she and Chromia were two crazy femmes in love with two handsome mechs from Iacon and Praxus. The days before lies, war and death set in. "We had that horrible fight when you told me you had sparkbonded, remember?"

Chromia nodded, recalling the extremely sudden and completely random outburst they had had when Chromia came into their workplace in Simfur and told a highly stressed out Elita that she and Ironhide were bonded. "Wasn't it really over the revolution and Optimus' involvement in it and my bond was just the final blow?"

"I think so; honestly, it was so long ago I don't really remember. I do remember how angry Bluestar was with us and how scary he was when he got angry."

"You forget he's an amal built for battle until he starts clacking his manacles and slamming his legs down on the ground." Chromia recalled, remembering how their manager had even the famously fierce and stubborn Chromia nervous with fear. "Good old Bluestar; I wish he could've made it."

"Me too." Elita said softly.

"Bluestar…your supervisor in Simfur?" Teletraan's voice asked as she flickered back to life near Elita and Chromia's stations, carrying two cubes of energon rather than one. "My sensors told me that Chromia had shown up on the bridge." She explained as she put the cubes before them. Being only an A.I. program, Teletraan couldn't consume energon unless she was in her blank form, which had blown a fuse and had yet to be fixed. "I have heard a few stories about him from Ironhide and Optimus."

"Yep, he was in charge of the Simfur Docking and Shipping hub where Elita and I worked before the war broke out." Chromia told her, taking the hydrogen enriched cube Teletraan had gotten for her and sipping from it. "He was one of the few amals that wasn't a part of the Elite Guard or Planetary Defense. No one really understood why Sentinel Prime had put him in the Docking hub until they saw how good he was at management and organization. He wasn't much of a fighter."

"He was something of a perfectionist." Elita explained to Teletraan. "He had…" she paused and frowned. "What do humans call it when you have to have everything perfect?"

"I believe the term you are searching for is OCD." Teletraan supplied. Elita looked it up on the Internet internally before smiling.

"Yes, he was most definitely OCD. But he was a very sweet amal; he was one of my good friends before the war broke out."

"What became of him?" Teletraan asked. She could have easily accessed the war databanks on the ship to find out what happened but she wanted to hear it from them. They had been there, they had a firsthand account that databanks could never give. Chromia gave the A.I. a knowing look but let Elita continue on.

"He died in the Simfur bombings; the Docking hub was one of the first places to go. We had had the dark energon come through our systems when the _Harbinger_ space station suffered complete systems failure because of a dark energon explosion; Starscream didn't want Megatron to learn where the dark energon had gone so he decided to wipe out all evidence. The data hadn't been copied and taken to the Hall of Records because Sentinel wanted to keep it hidden as well." Elita's optics went dark for a moment. "Only a handful of workers survived the docking attacks. Bluestar wasn't one of them."

"You didn't survive either." Chromia reminded her softly. Both femmes went silent at their memories of Elita's death in the Simfur bombings.

"What do you mean Elita didn't survive the bombings?" Teletraan asked, sounding confused. "Or are you referring to the other two in her cadre?"

Chromia shook her head. "No, I'm not talking about Elita-Two and Three; I'm talking about this Elita, right here." She gestured to Elita's rose crystal frame.

Elita watched Teletraan's confused expression and the unmistakable light of curiosity in her optics. By her very nature, Teletraan was a being who was always seeking to learn and expound her knowledge.

"Teletraan, would you like to hear the whole story about me and Chromia?"


	2. By Seeing It Firsthand

**_By Seeing It Firsthand_**

_Many, many vorns ago on Golden Age Cybertron…_

The story had taken Cybertron by storm.

After vorns and vorns of eluding the Cybertronian Elite Guard, the King of the Court of Rogues had been caught and been taken into custody. He was to be reformatted into a civil and obedient member of society after he stood trial before the High Council; such was the fate of glitches that were caught.

But he wasn't without friends. A team of glitches from Cybertron's Underworld had attempted to infiltrate the headquarters of the Elite Guard and liberate him, but they had been caught in the process. Today, those glitches and their King would be executed by the High Council before all of Cybertron, having been deemed too dangerous to live.

Everyone on the face of Cybertron had an opinion on this case, and Chromia and Elita were no exceptions.

"This is horrible," Elita murmured as she and Chromia watched the live feed in Chromia's quarters. The bronze and purple and silver form of Sentinel Prime stood on the steps of the Quarantine, Cybertron's greatest prison and judicial hub in Iacon, and was giving some lengthy and winded speech about the caste system and order to the world. His bonded, a cream-white femme known as Whitespark, stood nearby with Halogen, Contrail, Ratbat and others of the High Council. On the other side of Sentinel stood Aliquant and Ultra Magnus, the two Magnuses of the Elite Guard, and some of their best captains. In their grasps were the glitches, bound in stasis cuffs with their heads downcast. Only Resonance, the King, had his head raised, orange optics burning with an unquenchable fire. "Why are they broadcasting this live? Cybertron hasn't had a public execution since the Quintessons left."

"Gotta make a statement out of them somehow." Chromia said, optics focused on the live holofeed. "There's been too many glitches recently; the Underworld's starting to become a big pain in the aft. Ooh look, there's Lancer!" Chromia said suddenly, pointing to the blue-purple and burnt orange form of the only femme captain in the Elite Guard. The femme captain was solemnly staring out over the crowd, the King firmly in her grasp. Chromia had a lot of respect for the femme, mostly because she wished she could've been in her position. Elita personally didn't see what was so appealing about being a Guardsbot.

"…_the loss of life can never truly be justified but these bots have taken the agency given to us by Primus and have used to undermine the order of the caste system and hurt and harm the lives of innocent bots. We mourn the loss of those whom they killed to free their perpetrator and we hope those in the Underworld realize that there are ways of getting help instead of acting out against us this way._" Sentinel Prime paused, looking over the solemn crowds of bots. The thoughts of the two Guardsmen that were killed trying to free Resonance weighed on the processors of all watching and present. "_Aliquant Magnus, you may proceed._" He stepped back to be with his bonded even as the yellow, blue and green form of Aliquant Magnus took the vacant spot.

"_By decree of the High Council and the authority of the Cybertronian Elite Guard, we have found Resonance of the Hydrax Plateau guilty on all accounts of anarchy, theft, murder and involvement with outlawed forces. His cohorts have also been found guilty on all charges. In accordance with the law of the Primes, they will be executed by spark extraction before the people of Cybertron._" His voice, one of the deepest Elita had ever heard, carried well over the crowd. It helped also that the audience was completely silent, not wanting to miss a moment of this gruesome ordeal. Elita saw one of the glitches shudder as the judgment was passed while another looked as if she were reciting something at a frantic pace. "_Halogen of the High Council has commissioned me with the authority to wield the Spark Extractor and pass judgment upon them._"

Halogen's dark green form, easily a head over many of the bots around him, stepped forward with the Spark Extractor in his hands, his single purple optic unwavering as he focused on Aliquant. The Spark Extractor gleamed in the light of twin suns, its iridescent blue lacquer winking at the cameras that were recording the feed. It was a weapon of last resort or a tool of judgment, something to fear and respect. Elita and Chromia leaned into the feed, optics unblinkingly watching every movement. All over Cybertron, the planet paused as it watched with rapt optics.

Fitting the Extractor in his hand, Aliquant turned to the glitches. In one smooth move, the captains of the Guard stepped back out of the range of the Extractor, leaving the glitches completely alone on the steps. Elita couldn't help but see how small they all appeared, forced to their knees before the weapon of mass destruction.

"_May you find Primus' mercy in the Allspark._" He said over the hum of the Extractor warming up. In one final movement, Resonance looked up at Aliquant with fiery, fierce optics and something passed between them. Something that words could never describe.

Then it was gone in a flash of light.

The boom of the Extractor rolled over the crowd and faded into the distance, replaced by complete and utter silence. The only other sound made was the sound of the now dead frames falling over onto the ground.

"_Judgment has been passed,_" Aliquant said, raising the Spark Extractor before the still crowd. "_By the will of Primus._"

"_By the will of Primus._" The crowd and those on the steps of the Quarantine repeated the words solemnly.

"By the will of Primus." Elita and Chromia said softly. It was the only respect that would be paid to the frames before they would be melted down; glitches were the lowest of the low, the casteless, and they were criminals. They didn't deserve the respect of final rites of even those who belonged to the lowest castes.

"_You have just seen the live feed of the execution of the King of the Court of Rogues and those who attempted to free him before his destined reformatting four orns before today. Halogen and…_" The chirpy golden and magenta femme reporter named Goldwyn began to say, having overcome her soberness and the magnitude of the execution. Like a spell that was broken, an audible buzz fell over the crowd as reporters talked to their feeds and bots conversed with each other over what they had just seen. Behind Goldwyn's shoulder armor, Elita watched the Elite Guard captains take the deceased forms and take them into the gaping maw of the Quarantine. Several reporters clamored for the attention of the High Council and the Elite Guard but no words or attention were given.

"Well, I guess that's it." Chromia said with a vented sigh, getting up to put the empty cube in her hand away. "Back to our normal lives."

"I still can't believe you made me watch this." Elita said, shutting the feed off in disgust. "You know I don't enjoy this kind of stuff and I could've gotten a lot of work done instead of lounging around all morning waiting to watch convicts die."

"It's not every day you get to see a history changing moment; the last public execution was when Sentinel executed the Decepticons at the end of the War of Rebellion. Now you can say you watched it live and give a firsthand account." Chromia countered. "Besides, you work too much."

"Work is productive; I enjoy feeling productive." Elita reminded her. She had to agree with Chromia about witnessing history changing moments firsthand and normally she would have been pining to watch a live feed of said moment alongside Chromia but this one was so…horrible. She felt queasy thinking about the loss of life or killing. "And _besides_, I could've just watched an account of it later on my own time; there's an army of librarians there recording every movement. The Hall of Records will probably have a billion different accounts to chose from by the end of the orn."

"If you don't get it, then I'm not going to explain it." Chromia said with a sigh as she rolled her optics at her best friend. She wasn't bothered by violence as much as Elita. "What do you planning on doing for the rest of the orn? We have work off until tomorrow, ugh." She made a face.

"Probably nothing you'd be interested in. What did you have in mind?" Elita asked as she put her own cube away. She had been here so much since she and Chromia had become friends that it was like her own quarters. She even cleaned it for Chromia when the mess became too much for Elita to handle when she visited.

Chromia shrugged. "There's not much to do as it is; everything's taken a break for the orn to watch the executions. They've really cracked down on the gladiator matches ever since Resonance's buddies tried to bust him out of the Quarantine so there's nothing for me to go see there until everyone calms down again."

"Good for them. I don't know what you see in that horrible sport." Elita said. Chromia gave her an annoyed look but both femmes quickly let the subject go; they had long ago established that they both had highly differing opinions on gladiator battles that weren't going to change anytime soon and there was no point in fighting over them. "We could go see Oilskids; it's been awhile since we've seen him and Audio. I was planning on dropping by the _Retreat_ to say hello to them." Elita offered as she changed subjects back to what to do for the rest of the orn.

"It _has_ been awhile since I've seen old Skids and Audio." Chromia said fondly. She had introduced Elita to them about a vorn after Chromia and Elita began working together and Oilskids and his bonded took to the young femme as easily as if she was their own energon. "They've been taking care of a reformatted glitch recently haven't they?"

Elita nodded. Oilskids and Audio had gotten a lot of fire for taking in a reformatted glitch, especially in light of what happened this morning, but the bonded pair still took her in anyway. "I was hoping on meeting her today. You want to come with?"

Chromia shrugged nonchalantly and smiled at Elita. "Got nothing better to do; might as well drop by and introduce myself."

* * *

Not for the first time today Orion Pax found himself wondering why Alpha Trion had to pick him of all of the librarians to help him with his project on this orn of all orns. The Head Archivist had requested the young librarian's help and despite having his spark set on going to record the execution first hand he couldn't say no. He never could say no to anyone who needed his help.

They were working in the oldest of the library catacombs, the ones that held the oldest of the files available to anyone on Cybertron. Most were firsthand accounts of fighting during the War of Rebellion, a time when Cybertron had risen up in rebellion against their Quintesson slave masters to throw off the yoke of bondage that had been placed on them since before recorded time, including a recording by Sentinel Prime shortly after he had been made Prime.

Checking the files to make sure that they hadn't procured viruses or degraded, Orion proceeded to then take the files and transfer them to a containment pad for Alpha Trion to hold onto until this catacomb was done being refurbished to the new technological standard Sentinel had ordered the Hall of Records to be updated to. And it wasn't just even the Hall of Records; Ironhide and Jazz had told him that the _Harbinger_ space station was also being upgraded as well since the technology was easily ten thousand vorns old.

"Take your time Orion; we're in no hurry." Alpha Trion said as he watched the young librarian look quickly through a file about the Battle of Moon One to look for damage or viruses. Concluding there was no damage, Orion transferred it to the pad without any performance or fuss and proceeded to go to the next file. "Read some of these files, learn from the history of your ancestors and what they did."

Orion glanced at Alpha Trion. He wanted nothing more than to fly through these files and then leave in time to go to record the execution alongside his other librarians but he knew that Alpha Trion would simply give him more to do. Sighing deeply through his vents, Orion nodded.

The file in his hands was labeled _Alterations to the Cybertronian Physiology by the Quintessons_ and had been made by a medic in the field of battle during the siege of Iacon. Orion was no medic but he did as Alpha Trion suggested and opened the file to read it.

Alpha Trion let a small smile come on his faceplates as he watched the change in his young charge's demeanor. The look he had just given him spoke volumes about what Orion really wanted to do; he wanted to get out of here and witness history happening with his own optics. But he knew that Orion didn't need to see history happening with this own optics; he would see more than enough in the future if he was interpreting the Covenant the right way, which is why he kept Orion with him here today. Opening the file, he saw the tenseness in Orion's frame and the furious speed that he read the file with, but as he got into the document, Alpha Trion watched him relax and lean in to read the text better, optics soaking up every word. Orion was nothing if not a bot who loved to learn.

Orion didn't even notice Alpha Trion leave. He processor was filling up with a sudden and new understanding of the world around him. According to this document, Cybertronians once had bodies very similar to organics with lungs that breathed air and bodies that could carry and reproduce young without the need for an Allspark. They had only lived short lives, less than three hundred years, before death came to them. The Quintessons had made all of these changes when they cyberformed Cybertron so that their servants could survive the drastic changes to their world. The atmosphere and biosphere had been destroyed, meaning there was no air to breathe. The Quintessons simply removed their servants lungs and altered their physiology to survive without them, and did numerous other changes so that their servants would be more to their liking.

The one thing they couldn't change was their servants' dependence on energon, which the Quintessons also relied on. Energon had been a huge determining factor in the war; the Quintessons did not know how to mine it or where it thrived but the Cybertronians did. With fresh energon pumping through their systems, the Cybertronians had a physical edge that the Quintessons never could have.

Once he finished that file, he eagerly moved onto the next one, nearly forgetting to check for viruses and damage like he was supposed to. This one, entitled _War of the Technorganics; a Spoken Tale of War and Exile_, detailed how technorganics lived alongside Cybertronians on Cybertron before the Quintessons. According to the spoken word, the only way things had been passed on before the Quintessons taught Cybertronians how to write, they were descendents of Onyx Prime and had an unbreakable friendship with the Minicons because of the friendship shared between Micronus and Onyx Prime. But when the Quintessons came, their fear of organics and their disgust at the half-and-half nature of technorganics caused them to massacre any technorganic they found. That, the file explained, is why there are no more technorganics on Cybertron.

His favorite among the many, many files that he came across was the story of Sentinel Prime, written by his sparkmate Whitespark near the dawn of the Golden Age with the aid of her sparkmate. Born instead of created, Sentinel was taken and designated to be a Tox-En disposer, one of the lowest and most humiliating jobs to be given. He did not have a designation but was instead known as DMCVX-00098903456 and was known as D9 among his friends and family. After hundreds of years in his job, D9 knew that there was something more than this and began to cultivate the thoughts that would lead to the War of Rebellion, thoughts of equality and freedom for all.

The turning point, according to Whitespark and Sentinel, came when D9 was visited by Logos Prime, one of the original Thirteen Primes that fought Unicron alongside Primus. Bestowing upon him a name, Sentinel, and the Matrix of Leadership that would make him the Prime, Sentinel roused the Cybertronians to battle against their Quintesson masters. Though they did not have the technology of the Quintessons and their great knowledge, Sentinel and his forces made the most of their natural mimicry gifts and the alt modes the Quintessons gave them so that they could carry their masters. But not only had they fought their masters, Whitespark explained, they fought their brothers as well. There were those who stood with the Quintessons that were Cybertronian, having been swayed and deceived by the Quintessons' craftiness. Given the name 'Decepticon', Sentinel reluctantly waged battle against them as well. But despite the hardships and terrible odds, the Cybertronians won. They exiled their masters into space and executed any Decepticon that did not give up the cause of the Quintessons. Then came the Golden Age.

_To think he started out with such humble origins,_ Orion thought as he read the beginnings of the High Council, those who had been Sentinel's closest supporters in the War of Rebellion. He had always assumed that Sentinel had been born into greatness and given this destiny from the beginning but this story told about a very different Sentinel, one who was not supposed to have a great and grand destiny according to the Quintessons.

It struck a chord in Orion's soul, permeating everything that made him who he was.

"Ah wondered if ya were down here." A familiar voice pulled Orion out of his reading. Shuttering his optics a couple of times to focus and get the after images of the words off of his optics, Orion realized that it was Jazz standing in the entry way to the catacomb. His diamond visor gleamed in the light of the holoscreen and his ever confident and cocky grin was in place on his faceplates. "Ah heard that ya couldn't make it tah the show this mornin' so Ah came tah see if ya were okay."

"Alpha Trion asked me to stay here and help." Orion explained, trying to clear the thoughts of Quintessons, Sentinel, and the War of Rebellion from his mind. Jazz was his oldest friend, a cultural investigator from Uraya, hence his accent.

"And ya couldn't say no, could ya?" Jazz finished, smiling as he shook his head. "Same old Orion, biggest spark on Cybertron. Ya'd take on the mantle of Head Archivist if he asked ya."

"How was the execution?" Orion asked, ignoring Jazz's playful quip about his nature. At that, Jazz sobered up, his smile fading. He looked at one of the screens instead of Orion's optics.

"Simple, quick, solemn." He said with a slight shrug. "Aliquant was quick, didn't make them suffer or anythin'. The frames are on their way tah be scrapped down in Slag City; ya didn't miss anything special Orion."

Orion sighed. Even though he knew Jazz was right that the executions wouldn't be anything too exciting, he had still missed a moment of history he knew he could never reclaim through watching secondhand accounts from his fellow librarians. Even interfacing wouldn't give him the full story like his own optics and audio receptors could.

"Hey, listen tah meh. Ya wouldn't have wanted tah be there anyway; ya don't have the bearings tah see that kind of stuff. It made even mah spark hurt a little tah see them go." Jazz told him in all seriousness. Being a frequent spectator of gladiator battles, Jazz's spark wasn't known for its kindness towards the dead and dying.

"I know," Orion admitted as he turned to finish the holofile and put it away in the pad. Suddenly he didn't feel like learning about the past anymore. "I can't handle the end the loss of life, as you say, but it's still history that I could have said I was there for. Not much happens these days that you can claim you were a part of."

"Now that last part Ah totally agree with ya. But enough of history; Ah think ya need to get out and get some sunlight." Jazz said, changing moods like only Jazz could. Steering Orion away from the panel, despite Orion being three heads taller than Jazz, he proceeded to forcibly push his friend outside of the catacomb.

"Where are we even going?" Orion asked with a small smile. Once Jazz had his mind set on something, Orion was powerless to stand against it.

"We're gonna go get some high-grade for ya and then we're gonna go and relax a little." Jazz said. "After that, some of mah pals back in Uraya are throwin' a shebang and ya are comin' with meh whether ya like it or not. Ironhide'll be there too."

"I'm still not done with the catacomb files for Alpha Trion." Orion reminded him, his smile widening as he and Jazz exited the darkness of Hall of Records and into the bright sunshine of the midday. Even though he couldn't see Jazz's optics under his visor, Orion knew he was rolling them at him.

"Deal with that tomorrow. Let's just live for the moment a little, shall we?"

* * *

"Mimi! Liti! It's been too long!" A short and stocky but jolly mech cried out as Chromia and Elita walked through the entry way of the _Rusting Retreat_, a small but homey energon and fuel stop shop. His silvery optics sparkled and winked against his nearly solid black frame as he pulled both Elita and Chromia into a hug. He was barely taller than both of them. "Nice to see you two drop around!"

"Good to see you too Skids." Chromia said, playfully punching the mech's shoulder. "But I thought I never told you to call me that."

"Sorry Mimi, I keep trying to save it to my processor but you know how us old models are. I should _really_ get this glitch of mine checked out with a medic." Oilskids said good naturedly. Elita rolled her optics; Oilskid's processor was fine despite his claims otherwise. "You want something on the house? You look like you could use a spell here."

"I'll take some coolant if you don't mind." Elita said as she and Chromia let Skids guide them to their "special spots" they always sat at when they visited the _Retreat_. The stop shop wasn't super busy despite the fact that most bots had taken the day off; it was mostly regular customers that came here. Audio and Oilskids knew all of them by spark.

"I'll take some high grade." Chromia said with a mischievous smile. It was a request she always made despite Oilskids never having any high grade on hand ever; he wasn't authorized to have that kind of fuel. He laughed.

"Trying to get me in trouble with the authorities again Mimi?" He pulled out two cubes and filled both with coolant.

"You know me," Chromia said, shrugging her shoulders innocently. "Is Audio around here?"

Oilskids nodded, passing the two cubes to the femmes with practiced skill. "She's just in back but she'll be with you shortly. Have either of you had a chance to meet Arcee yet?"

Elita shook her head, taking a swig of the cooling liquid. Her internal systems shuddered as the coolant spread immediately into her energon lines. "We were hoping to meet her here today. Since we have the day off and nothing better to do we decided to drop by."

"I'm flattered." He said with a smile. Their conversation paused as a customer called for more low-grade energon and Oilskids left to take care of him. He would be awhile; one didn't simply call Oilskids over without getting stopped for half a joor to talk.

"Arcee, huh? Sounds like a nice enough designation; at least it isn't Slag." Chromia said after both femmes as drank the better part of their cube. "Wonder what got her reformatted."

Elita shrugged, unsure of it herself. Images of a ferocious and snarling femme with tracker implants on her and crazy red optics came to her processor. "Just be nice okay? No starting any fights."

Chromia scoffed, looking playfully offended. "I'm always nice; everyone else has a problem with my niceness. Either she'll like me or she won't." On both of their scanners they saw Audio's spark signature and an unfamiliar femme spark signature moving towards them before Audio's signature disappeared from the scanners.

Elita and Chromia grinned at each other. Oilskids had gotten permission from the High Council to give Audio a spark dampener for an upgrade half a vorn ago, something she had been overjoyed at, but she was still imperfect at using the new technology like many of the older models. Her attempts to scare them often fell through at moments like the one when they saw her coming.

"Mimi! Liti! How are you! It has been so long!" In a burst of black and purple armor, Audio had burst through the back of the stop shop and ran at the two femmes full speed. Having expected her, Chromia and Elita didn't fall over when she hugged them. "Did I surprise you?!"

"Sort of." Elita offered, smiling at the femme as Audio pulled back with a confused frown. "You're getting a lot better at it though. We didn't see you coming until you were almost right on top of us."

"Ah, there is still much I must work on." She murmured. Her accent was from the southern providences of Cybertron; she, like Oilskids and Chromia, was older than the Language Unification Act Sentinel instituted before Elita's time and had an accent left over from her original language. "But I was better, yes?"

"Give it another half a vorn and you should have it down." Chromia told her with a smile. She loved hearing Audio's accent and Audio loved to talk, which made for excellent conversation.

Audio sighed before brightening. "I _did_ scare Oilskids; he did not sense me coming when he was working on heating oil. I scared him and he jumped very high." She smiled widely at them. "It was very funny."

"I can imagine." Elita said with a smile.

"You should go to the Youth Sectors sometime when you finally get used to your dampener; younglings are hilarious to scare." Chromia told her as she finished the last of her coolant. Her blue optics sparkled mischievously.

"Chromia!" Elita chastised, lightly smacking her friend's arm for even suggesting such an idea. Younglings and sparklings were among Cybertron's most treasured beings; there were _severe_ punishments for harming a youngling or sparkling or even going near the Youth Sectors without permission.

Audio chuckled at that but shook her head. "Do not worry Elita, I do not wish to go to jail. Jail is not fun; it is too cold and uncomfortable. Their energon is not good."

Chromia burst out laughing at that one while Elita rolled her optics again. Of course Audio would be more worried about how comfortable jail was and the quality of their energon than the actual fact that she would be in jail. She would have probably become best friends with the guards while she was at it.

The unfamiliar spark signature moved suddenly, causing her scanner to shoot her a notice on the corner of her optics. The spark signature, most likely Arcee, hovered just on the other side of the wall that led to the back of the shop. "Is that Arcee?" She asked, speaking quietly to Audio so that the femme couldn't overhear her.

Quickly scanning the area herself, Audio's purple optics brightened in understanding. "Ah yes. She is shy but I will get her to come say hello. Just a moment." Disappearing through the doors, Elita could hear Audio talking to an unfamiliar femme voice before she said something that Arcee must not have liked because the femme protested before Audio reemerged with a blue and pink femme in tow.

"Arcee, come say hello! It is okay!" Audio was telling the stubborn femme, who was grinding her feet into the ground and straining against Audio with all of her might.

"Audio! I don't want to! Let me go!" Arcee growled, shooting an apprehensive look at the bots all around her. If Elita didn't know any better, she would have said that Arcee was frightened by other bots.

At first glance, she didn't appear to scream "reformatted" or "glitch" to Elita. She had an unusually small femme frame, polymer judging from the way the light reflected off of it. The majority of her body was blue with the exception of two displaced pieces of metal on her wrists and around her face; they were a rosy pink not unlike Elita's own frame color. Her optics were a fierce blue color with white centers.

But directly under her optics, Elita spotted the telltale tracker implants that marked her as a glitch reformat. Twin yellow bands reaching from her optics down to her jaw line that were seared all the way down through her faceplates so they could never be removed; with those on, the High Council could track her wherever she went and subdue her if necessary.

"Ooh, she's a fighter!" Chromia said with a smile. Glancing at her friend, Elita saw a intrigued light enter Chromia's blue optics. "Fighters are good bots to make friends with. They keep things interesting."

"Chromia…" Elita warned but it was already too late.

Arcee turned on Chromia in a flash, her fight with Audio forgotten for the moment. "I'm not a sideshow for your entertainment!" She snapped, her free wrist halfway up like she was going to fight Chromia herself.

Chromia rolled her optics with a laugh. "Put that away before you hurt yourself. I'm not judging you because you're a glitch." Elita winced at her friend's bluntness but didn't attempt to stop Chromia. She could literally taste the power play between the two of them. "I didn't come here to start a fight but I can sure give you one if that's what you're looking for."

"Nobody's starting a fight here." Oilskids said, magically reappearing at his bonded's shoulder as he placed a soothing hand on Arcee's shoulder. "If you have to fight it out, please go somewhere else."

"It's alright Oilskids, I didn't mean any harm." Chromia assured him while keeping her optics focused on the femme, a smile still firmly in place on her faceplates. Arcee vented hot air deeply and glared back at her. "The name's Chromia, kid." She gestured to Elita who smiled and nodded her head towards her politely. "This is my best pal Elita-One."

"Nice to meet you." Elita said. Arcee scoffed at her and looked away from Elita like she wasn't good enough for her.

"Can I leave now? I met them." She growled to Oilskids, her optics quickly jumping around the shop before settling back on Oilskids with a glare.

Oilskids sighed. "Yes, you can go." Without so much as a glance back, Arcee turned and vanished into the back of the shop, leaving a tense silence hanging behind her. With a quick glare from Chromia at the other customers, the chatter resumed, albeit quieter and less friendly than before. "I'm sorry about that; I hoped that Arcee would've started getting used to other bots by now." He let out another deep sigh as Audio caressed the side of his faceplates comfortingly.

"It's alright Oilskids, don't worry about it. But what happened with her?" Elita asked, not quite sure what to think of her breem-long encounter with the fierce femme.

"She became a glitch after leaving her position as a maintenance bot in Protihex and tried to journey to the Underworld through the Sea of Rust. She was caught by an Elite Guard and forcibly reformatted."

"Was she traumatized by the event?" Chromia asked, optics thoughtfully on the doors were Arcee had stormed out. Her spark signature faded into the distance on both of their scanners.

Audio shrugged. "We do not know what she does and does not remember. There is a lot of hurt in her spark that she will not let us help her with."

"Do most reformatted bots act like she does then?" Elita asked to all three bots. Arcee was the first reformatted she had ever met in her life but Chromia made it sound like she had met reformatted bots before.

Chromia shrugged. "They're like any bot Elita, there's no one personality for them. But most aren't as bitter and fierce as Arcee is." A smile curved onto her faceplates. "I like her."

"You would be the first." Oilskids said, instinctively reaching for his cleaning rag to wipe the empty cubes down with. "She either scares everyone away or pushes their buttons so badly that they want nothing to do with her."

"You guys seem to be okay with her." Elita pointed out.

"Most of the time." Audio said. The tone in her voice implied that there were times when things got pretty bad between them. "It is more difficult than we expected."

"You planning on sending her back to the Elite Guard?" Chromia asked, an optic ridge cocked ever so slightly at the bonded pair. Her tone was carefully neutral but they all heard the undertone of defensiveness and judgment.

Oilskids shook his head. "It's tough but I'm not going to give up on her. I'm not about to leave her with the idea that no one wants her, Primus knows her life is already hard enough as it is." Audio nodded in agreement.

Chromia said nothing but she nodded in satisfaction to them. She really didn't like it when people gave up on something, no matter how hard it was; the High Council was not particularly high on her list of respect in part because of this.

A silence fell on their conversation.

"I've been meaning to ask Liti, have you talked to either of your sisters recently?" Oilskids asked. Slightly surprised by the sudden shift in conversation, Elita had to think back for a moment.

"The last time I heard from Two and Three was a fourth of a vorn ago. They've been busy in the Youth Sectors and haven't had a lot of time to talk."

"You should ask them to come back to Simfur for a little while; I would enjoy seeing them again." Audio said fondly. It had been a long time since the triplets had been together.

"Err…well, I…" Elita normally would have dismissed such an idea because of work but it _had_ been too many vorns since she last saw Two and Three. "I'm not sure. I could ask them when I get home tonight." Normally, she would have simply contacted them right then but since Two and Three worked in the Youth Sectors she could only contact them at certain times.

"I am completely for that idea." Chromia said with a smile. "Three and I sure know how to raise some pit given the chance."

"I am not about to take the blame for your partying again." Elita warned severely. She really didn't like the gleam in Chromia's optics. It was a look that promised fun with a heavy side of trouble.

"Well, see if you can get them up here in the next few weeks or so. I hear that some of the Guardsmen are throwing a party in Praxus that I want to go crash with her."

"We'll see." Elita finally said. She had a feeling that she and Two would somehow be dragged to the party with them despite their best efforts to resist them. Chromia's unsubtle glance at Elita only confirmed her suspicions.

"I should go find Arcee before she is in trouble with anyone again." Audio told them, looking at Oilskids with a trying look. Oilskids nodded. "It's dangerous to leave her out for long periods of time. She tends to get into fights when people comment on her reformatted status."

"Well, we need to get going anyway." Elita said, standing up. Chromia looked at her in confusion. _Let's leave them be for a little bit,_ Elita said with a look. No point in stressing Arcee anymore than she already was.

"Oh right. I'll have to drop by sometime to say hi to Arcee again." Chromia said purposefully, smiling at the two bots as she stood up too. Elita looked at her in surprise. "It was wonderful seeing you again." She said, rubbing her foreheads with the two of them affectionately. Elita followed in suit.

"It was wonderful to see you again as well." Oilskids told them, placing a hand around his bonded's waist and pulling her to him. "Try not to get into too much trouble."

"I could say the same for you." Chromia teased as the two femmes left the _Retreat_.

* * *

Orion leaned on the edge of the balcony, staring blankly off into space. This happened when he got energized; he totally spaced out on his friends and had no memory of the night at all. Once he got talking he would talk about anything that came to his processor, resulting in very interesting conversations.

Tonight, his mind was abuzz about the files he had read. There was so much to learn and so little he knew of his own people's past. He had always assumed that Cybertronians had always been this way, eternal and unique among all species of life in the universe. But the truth was that, once upon a time, they were a lot like them. All of that prejudice against organics was overrated.

"Are ya completely spaced out now or is there still some clarity left in ya?" Jazz asked when he spotted Orion's red and blue form on the balcony. Behind them, their third companion Ironhide was partying it up, his shouting audible even out here.

"Jazz, why did they change us?" Orion asked. "Or why did they change Cybertron? Why didn't the Thirteen stop them from invading us?"

"Nope, you're already gone." Jazz sighed as he joined Orion on the balcony. "It's a pity, Ah was gonna introduce ya to a femme that I thought ya'd like to meet but Ah don't think it's a smart idea when you're like this."

"I mean, Logos Prime _gave_ Sentinel his name and his rank so the Thirteen were still around by that point, right?" Orion frowned through his energized haze at Jazz. "It doesn't make much sense."

"That's cause they don't exist Orion." Jazz told him as he took a sip of the energon. It was a cyanide cube, easily identifiable by the kick it had at the end of a sip. "There's no Thirteen or Primus or Unicron, Orion. It's all something some jacked up bot made up tah try and give us some mythos durin' the Golden Age."

"Then how'd we get here Jazz?"

"Well, Ah invited ya and ya came along with meh…"

"No, I mean here, like on Cybertron. Or how did the Quintessons get on Quintessa or the Nebulons on Nebulon Two? Where did all of _this_," he gestured to everything before them in the dark night. "come from?"

"Ah'm not Primus Orion, Ah don't know."Jazz said, slamming back the last of his cube, shaking his head as the kick hit him. Orion chuckled blearily at him.

"Rather ironic that you just said Primus doesn't exist and here you are blaming it on him." He attempted to stand up but leaned dangerously to the right. Jazz grabbed his arm and pulled him back on balance, smiling at his friend in a "you're-such-a-strange-bot" way.

"He's convenient tah blame things on when nothin' in this world makes sense or goes your way."

"Who, Sentinel Prime?"


End file.
